


Punk Rock Suburban

by GoldandScarlett



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, i dont know why im even writing anything here ill leave now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3189710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldandScarlett/pseuds/GoldandScarlett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a fic I wrote for my friend and then she told me to publish it and give her a very specific dedication, because that's the sort of egotistical asshole she is. I love her. Anyways, basically, Sirius follows Remus around all summer because he is his screwed up self, James is touring Europe, and no one actually likes Peter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punk Rock Suburban

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bitteranimosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitteranimosity/gifts).



> DEDICATED TO: MY BEST FRIEND ROSA (I hope caps lock was good enough for you, Rosa.) Her tumblr is frickoffmate.tumblr.com ya'll should all follow her she's the best. 
> 
> Also, I am aware that Sirius listening to the Clash is something of an anachronism but I like the Clash and so would Sirius so I don't care. 
> 
> Let me see, do I have anything else to say. No I don't. Enjoy.  
> OH! And I can't draw but here is some cover art anyways because I have way to much time on my hands.

            There was a dog following Remus. Sirius could see it from his vantage point, skulking in the bushes. Not that Sirius was stalking or anything -- well, he was kind of, but it wasn't necessarily intentional. It was just, the Potters were just going on a tour of Europe that summer and of course they'd invited him, promised it would be cost free, but he hadn't wanted to intrude on them or their finances, so he'd made some flippant comment about "brotherly bonding". That had made James snort because really, a bond forming between Regulus and Sirius was about as likely to occur as one between water and oil. Still, he'd let it go. James was a good friend. He only told him to give his family hell -- and write often.

 

            Sirius had told his family he was staying with the Potters. Not that they cared particularly, but he still felt like he should tell them. 

 

            Really, Sirius had found an abandoned mess of a shed in some dead part of London. It wasn't much more than a place to park a motorbike and occasionally grab some sleep in, but it was well enough for Sirius. And he was fairly certain it raised his punk level by at least seventy percent, so there was that. 

 

            The thing was, Sirius was lonely. He wrote to James sometimes, and James wrote back, but they were always hurried snippets of things: brilliant food, warm beaches and cool mountains, tantalizing girls, (not that you'd be into that, mate. This is purely bragging here). Sirius had once endeavored to explain his sexuality to his friend, but all James had done was waggle his eyebrows and say "I think what you are is more lupussexual." Had Sirius really said James was a good friend? James was terrible. 

 

            The point was that Sirius was alone. And bored. He couldn't go visit Remus because Remus, being who he was, would immediately pick up on the fact that Sirius was miserable, and then he would try to invite him to stay with them, and then Sirius would have to stand there and listen to Remus' parents attempt to explain why that simply wasn't an option without giving away that their son was, in fact, a werewolf. And he couldn't stay with Peter because, well, Peter was Peter and without James and Remus around, Sirius quickly grew bored of him. Also, he was in France, but that was mostly irrelevant. Sirius would never be that desperate.

 

            So that is why he was now crouched in the bushes, his dog eyes large and watchful, as Remus crossed the street and headed toward the park. This was all completely not stalking. It was just logical. Well, it had seemed like the logical jump to make in his head anyways. 

 

            "Sirius," Remus said, and Sirius froze, until Remus added, "if you wanted to say hello you could have just knocked on my door instead of following me about" and he was so clearly talking to the dog that was following him that Sirius was glad he was also at that moment, a dog,  so that he couldn't betray himself with an indignant huff of laughter. Because that dog was so clearly _not_ him it was almost insulting.

 

            The dog only stared at Remus, because it was nothing more than a dog and no matter how much Remus stared at it, it could not change into anything other than what it was. 

 

            "You're not Sirius, are you?" Remus said at last. 

 

            The dog yipped, wiggling towards him, wagging his tail happily. Remus knelt down to pet him and  Sirius found himself mildly jealous of a mangy street mutt. 

 

            "You're quite cheery for a street dog," Remus was saying. Sirius took advantage of this distraction to creep closer. Ok, so maybe he was being a little creepy. He was willing to admit that, he supposed. Still, he didn't particularly regret it. 

 

            Watching Remus crouched in the center of the pavement, petting that stupid dog, Sirius felt calmer than he had in weeks. He had a tattoo on his wrist, designed to look something like a watch, with the moon as its face, a moon that exactly copied the phases of its celestial counterpart. He had been watching it anxiously ever since summer started (although at that point he had the phases perfectly memorized -- a tiny silver orb that went around and around in his mind, growing and shrinking and growing again). Every time the moon on his wrist went full, Sirius lost the ability to sleep. He would switch to dog form and wander and worry. At Hogwarts, Remus always had him. Him and James and Peter, and they looked out for him, made sure he wouldn't do anything too irrevocably stupid. At home, Remus was alone, locked in a specially proofed basement, and that was still almost not enough.

 

            What if Remus hurt himself, alone in there? What if he got out and hurt his parents? He would never forgive himself for that, and Sirius would never forgive himself for letting it happen. But that day, the moon on Sirius' wrist was half full, and Remus seemed content, so Sirius could be happy. 

 

            Sirius followed Remus, who had gotten up and begun making his way toward the swing sets. He plopped down in one of them and kicked his heels idly. The dog curled itself down next to him, and watched him intently. 

 

            "You're a good dog, aren't you," Remus said. The dog's tail thumped against the ground a few times. "I'm sorry I can't take you home," Remus told him. "Mother doesn't like dogs, you know. They remind her that," he leaned over conspiratorially and stage whispered, "her son is a _werewolf_."

 

            The dog took the opportunity to try licking his face, making Remus shriek with startled laughter. Then his laughter died and his eyes grew somber. "I don't think she likes me, you know," Remus confided. "I mean, she loves me, but that's different. I think she likes it better when I'm at school. She feels safer. I mean, I feel safer. I miss school." And then, so quietly that Sirius almost missed it. "I miss Sirius." 

 

            "Remus!" A woman called from one of the neat suburban houses across the street and, when her call elicited no response, she called again, he voice tinged with a slightly frantic tone. "Remus!?" 

 

            Remus sighed and gave the dog one last head rub. "Well, I suppose I won't see you around again, but it was nice knowing you." He rose, with that rueful air that Sirius was so familiar with: that defeated posture, and melancholy smile.

 

            Sirius had always longed to shake it out of him and sometimes, when he told a particularly bad joke, or taught Remus how to do a complicated trick on a broom stick, that mask of a smile fell away, replaced by something so genuine and bright, that it hurt Sirius to look at. 

 

            The dog tried to follow Remus to the door, until Remus shoed it back to the swing sets, looking miserable. It was at this point that Sirius decided he was going to keep the dog. 

Sirius waited until he heard the click of Remus' door slamming shut, then a moment more, until he was certain that Remus would not return. Then he stepped out of the bushes and shifted himself to human form.

 

            The dog had returned to the swing and was curled there, looking piteously forlorn. Sirius considered it for a moment, then picked up a woodchip and transfigured it into a dog biscuit (He'd learned long ago that no one wanted to enforce the underage magic law onto a member of the noble house of Black), then he whistled and waved the biscuit. The dog perked up instantly, but still, it seemed distrustful and stayed crouched by the swing set, its eyes following the biscuit in Sirius' hand. 

 

            "Aww, come on, you bloody mutt," Sirius muttered. "You trust Remus and not me? I'm a literal fucking dog, you arsehole!" He sighed and tossed the dog the biscuit. It gobbled it up eagerly and eyed Sirius with new appreciation.

 

            Sirius picked up another woodchip and transfigured it as well. And another.

 

            At last the dog came to him. Sirius grinned at his victory and led the dog down a side block to avoid walking in front of Remus' house, and then to where he had left his motorbike, leaving against a white picket fence. Sirius had always likes the aesthetics of punk against suburbia. It made like, hipster punk. Or something. Sirius wasn't sure. 

 

            There was some difficulty getting the dog onto the bike, at last Sirius just heaved it on in front of him, holding it in place with his arms. Once the dog stopped trying to lick his face, it actually worked out quite well, and Sirius made it back to his shed without incident.

 

             He sent the dog (it really did need a name, he thought) inside, and then went to the nearest grocery shop to buy a bag of dog food. He didn't want to buy anything for himself, but he could hear Remus scolding him in the back of his head. _Sirius you're too thin. Sirius you have a game today, if you don't eat something I will personally hex you off your broom._ Good old Mother Moony.

 

            When he returned, he dug out a piece of parchment and a bedraggled quill, the feathers matted almost beyond recognition, and composed a short letter to Remus.

 

**_Dear Moony,_ **

**_Hypothetical question: if you were to have a dog, what would you name it?_ **

**_-Padfoot_ **

 

            He sent the letter out and then curled up next to the dog and drifted into sleep. 

 

            There was a letter waiting for him the next morning. 

 

_Dear Sirius,_

_I am somewhat alarmed. What have you done now, taken in some rouge member of what you have deemed your kind? If so, I'm not entirely sure I should be condoning such behavior, let alone encouraging it. Then again, I say that about almost every prank you and James try to pull, and look how that went, so I suppose um... I 'm not sure. Perhaps Fido? Spot? I really hadn't given the matter much thought._

_Best wishes, hope you're giving your family just enough hell to have a good time and not get disowned!_

_-Moony_

 

            Sirius allowed himself a moment to snicker at the response, then he grabbed his quill and scribbled a reply. 

 

**_Moony. You're an idiot,_ **

**_I lied. I don't actually want any suggestions on dog names. At least not from you, because those names are terrible. Come on Moony, you're supposed to be the smart one here. You're letting me down._ **

**_-Padfoot_ **

 

            Sirius posted the letter; Remus' owl had politely waited, because Remus was a kind and thoughtful person and had probably trained his owl to behave accordingly.

 

            He spent the rest of the day fiddling with his motor bike, while the dog kept him company. It was nice to have someone to talk to, it made him feel slightly less crazy about babbling to himself. 

 

            He was working on a project, trying to get the motorbike to fly. Sirius suspected that he would have to enchant the engine somehow, but he was wary of accidently destroying something irreplaceable and so had been dancing around that area for a while now, trying out everything else first. He'd run out of anything else to do now, though. One could only install so many flame shooters before it got out of hand. 

 

            "Hey," Sirius said to the dog, "Think I oughta take the engine out?" 

 

            The dog barked and wagged its tail.

 

            Sirius shrugged. "Okay, dog. Thanks for your belief in me." He reached for an engine manual, humming thoughtfully. "You know dog, you need a name. I would have just let Moony name you, but Moony wants to name you fucking Fido or something, and I refuse to be seen with dog with such an uncreative name. People would get the wrong idea. I don't think punks have dogs named Fido. Hmm," Sirius regarded the dog critically. "You wanna be named something punk, do you think?" 

 

            The dog blinked its massive doggy eyes at him. Sirius took this to be a yes.

 

            "How about... Strummer? Like Joe Strummer. That cool with you?"

 

            The dog licked Sirius' face happily. 

           

            "Brilliant. Strummer it is then."

 

            Sirius enchanted the engine to the clamour of Clash songs. He forgot to eat dinner, and fell asleep curled in the pile of blankets with Strummer draped on top of him. It was too hot, but Sirius didn't even think of moving.

 

            A week went by, and a little more; The moon on Sirius' wrist slowly grew. Then it was the night of a shiny silver sphere, and Sirius sat awake, tracing circles around his tattoo, while Strummer, sensing his anxiety, paced restlessly before him. 

 

            The next morning, he wheeled his motor bike outside, pulled Strummer awkwardly in front of him, and went to check on Remus-- not that he really expected Remus to come outside that day, but it would be good to check, Sirius thought.

 

            Strummer remembered the spot, for he squirmed off the bike as soon as it had stopped and trotted towards the park. Sirius checked to make sure no one was watching, then allowed himself to shift, pointed nose stretching into snout, legs shortening as he fell onto all fours. Then he chased after Strummer, keeping a wary eye out for anyone who might be Remus.

 

            Strangely enough, Remus did make an appearance that day, albeit a rather late one. It was half past five in the evening when Remus wandered into the park. There were dark circles under his eyes, and a wicked scratch that climbed its way up his arm, until it was engulfed by his shirt sleeve.

           

            Still, Sirius was relieved. He could never help imaging the worst sort of things. Remus, with nothing to tear and devour, clawing open his own stomach, spilling organs and blood onto the damp basement floor. Or escaping his prison and being found out by a wizard neighbor, hunted down and slaughtered like some savage animal. A scrape like that was nothing in comparison. 

 

            Strummer recognized Remus right away, and made a bolt for him. 

 

            Remus blinked, confused, but brightened visibly. "Hello, dog. Glad you've survived. You look a little fatter. Has someone been feeding you?"

 

            Strummer yipped happily and wagged his tail with frantic excitement. Sirius, who had been feeding the creature for something like a week and a half, would never be able to illicit that much happiness from the stupid thing.  

 

           

            "Well that's good. I'm glad you have friends. All my friends are traveling or something. Even Peter. Peter is in France, I think. Sending postcards every two weeks about a different girl he's snogged."

 

            Sirius gave a mental snort. He, too, had been receiving almost identical postcards, and was fairly certain that the only way Peter could have gotten that many girls was if he had made them up. He made a note to put that in his next note to Remus. It would make him laugh.

 

            "I've been heartlessly abandoned," Remus said, laughing morosely. 

 

            Strummer yipped at him, and made an effort to climb into his lap.

 

            "Yes, yes, I know," Remus laughed. " _You_ love me. I appreciate it."

 

            The dog sighed contentedly and allowed Remus to pet him, absently.

 

            "I would give you a name, you know," Remus said, "but it would be something despicably uncreative, and Sirius would judge me. Maybe I should have asked him what _he_ thought an acceptable name for a dog was. "

 

            He sighed. "You know, Dog-That-Shalt-Not-Be-Called-Fido, I think I might be a little bit in love with him."

           

            Some instinct in Sirius had shifted him human, without even noticing. Remus was a little bit in love with him. He was out of the bushes and beside Remus before his mind could inform him of what a terrible idea this was.

 

            Remus gave an impressively high-pitched shriek, and then Sirius found himself staring down the nose of Remus' oddly knotted wand. Which was lowered a moment later with a bewildered: "Sirius..?"

 

            "Uh. Hi," Sirius said weakly.

 

            "How long have you been....? No wait, fuck. You brought the damn dog with you didn't you? Do you make a _habit_ of stalking me?"

 

            That was Remus. Always too clever for his own good.

 

            "I named him Strummer," Sirius muttered.

 

            " _Strummer?"_ Remus was trying very hard not to shriek, Sirius could tell.

 

            "Yeah," Sirius said. "Like the lead singer of the Clash. Joe Strummer? No?"

 

            Remus continued to stare at him. Sirius was beginning to flounder. And Sirius Black did not flounder often. Then again, Sirius was rarely on the side of Remus' rage. As in his real rage, not the fabricated disapproval he put up for when he thought James and Sirius had taken something a little too far, but was also to amused to properly reprimand them for.

 

            "So uh," Sirius said, "I heard you might be a little bit in love with me?"

 

            Remus' face went bright red, and his expression hardened. "Just because I've put my wand away doesn't mean I can't still change my mind and hex you into next week," he warned. "Underage restrictions be damned."

 

            Sirius was dimly aware that something was not going right, but he was to giddy to figure it out. "Not a kiss instead?" He asked. And then he laughed, high and teasing.

 

            Remus bit his lip and positively seethed.  " _Don't"_ he hissed, through clenched teeth. "I get it, okay. Everything's a joke for you to pull a laugh out of. But not this okay. Leave it alone Sirius." And then he got up and stormed away. Strummer followed up, shooting Sirius a disapproving glance over his shoulder.

 

            And _oh._ Oh Sirius was such an arsehole.

 

            "Wait! Moony wait!"

 

            Remus acted as though he hadn't heard him, except that his speed quickened.

 

            Sirius broke into a run. "Moony!"

 

            Remus whirled to glare at him. He was crying, Sirius realized with horror. "Sirius, I'm not kidding. It's weird. I know. You're my roommate and also, coincidently, a guy.  But I also thought  you were my _friend_. And you shouldn't-," he paused to let out a gasping sort of sob, "rub this in my face."

 

            Jesus Christ. Sirius was truly considering impaling himself over his sheer stupidity. "Moony, Moony will you listen to me for a second? I really- I, Oh fuck it."

 

            And then Sirius had pushed their lips together in a blast of heat. Remus flailed his arms for a moment, surprised, and then he was yanking Sirius closer and the half put together confessions Sirius had been scrabbling together in his head all pulled together into one tremendously uncreative and sappy _I love you_.

 

            Remus broke them apart and stared at him. "What?"

 

            Sirius laughed. He felt as though he'd been electrified, or downed seventeen shots of espresso. "I love you," he said again, "Jesus, Moony. I've always loved you. Ever since I met you. I've been pining over you for _ages_. I thought you knew. I thought everyone knew. I'm not a very subtle person you know."

 

            Remus was still staring at him. "You didn't think I would have said something?" he asked at last.

 

            "Well not if you didn't like me back," Sirius pointed out. "You would have had to hurt my feelings to do that. And you've always been so polite."

 

            "You're a prick," Remus said, cracking a smile.

 

            "A little bit," Sirius acknowledged.  "Sorry about the um... you know, stalking. And the eavesdropping. And what not."

 

            Remus rolled his eyes and laughed. "It's alright. I'll consider forgiving you." Then he frowned. "What _are_ you doing here anyways? Aren't you suppose to be in like, Albania or something , fighting vampires with Prongs?"

 

            Sirius winced. "Er..." he began. "I didn't... want to bother them?"

 

             "You told them you were at your parents, didn't you?" Remus frowned at him.

 

            "Possibly?"

 

            "And so you've been staying... _where?"_

 

            "Um..." Sirius considered lying but one look at Remus' face told him that this would be a distinctly bad idea. "And old shack? In London?"

 

            Remus looked as though he might faint." Sirius, you're going to kill me. You're going to get _yourself_  killed."

 

            "Please," Sirius retorted easily, "I could just _zap_ any attackers away."

 

            Remus grew even paler. "Scratch that. You're going to end up _in Azkaban._ My God, Padfoot, you can't just go around zapping people. Especially not while you're underaged."

 

            Sirius grinned."

 

            "What?"

 

            "You're calling me Padfoot again. Which means you're not, in fact, mad at me."

 

            "You're such an idiot," Remus said, and then bit of the inevitable retort with a hard kiss.

 

            "Remus!" His mother, her calls echoed down the street. The two broke apart, flushed.

 

            "I guess I should uh," Sirius made a vague gesture to where he had parked his motor bike. "Go," he finished lamely.

 

            "You are absolutely _not_  sleeping in a deserted shack in the middle of bloody crime infested _London_ ," Remus snapped, in his steely Remus voice that was just not worth arguing against.

 

            "Well I can't stay here," Sirius pointed out. "There is no way your parents are going to go for that. I might find out you're a werewolf you know."

 

            Remus smiled despite himself. "That would be scandalous," he agreed. "You might not want to be friends with me anymore."

 

            "I _don't_ want to be friends with you anymore." Sirius grinned wickedly. "I want to be _boy_ friends." He leaned in to snatch another kiss, as Remus whacked him on the shoulder.

 

            "Remus?!"

 

            "Coming!" Remus bellowed back.

 

            "Dinner's on the table! Hurry up dear!" his mother called back. They listened until they heard the door slam shut once more.

 

            "Come on," Remus said, dragging Sirius towards the door, with Strummer traipsing contentedly along behind them, "You're going to stay here and you're not going to argue it."

 

            "Are you sure? You're parents aren't going to shout at you, or something?" Sirius was not entirely use to parents who had disciplinary methods that revolved around practices other then shouting, hitting, and throwing things.

 

            "No I can handle this." Remus promised. "Watch this."

 

            So Sirius watched, as Remus opened the door and dragged him inside.

 

            "Mum," he said, calmly. Authoritatively even.  "This is my friend Sirius. He is well aware that I am a werewolf and he will be staying with us for the remainder of this Summer. I'll put the sheets on the guest bed."  

 

            "And oh!" he added, as his mother stared at them, white faced. "He has a dog. It'll be staying here to."

 

            Then the three of them brushed past Remus' mother, who looked faintly shell-shocked, and up the stairs.

           

           


End file.
